Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(156)

“I’m going with you,” Sophie said.

His mouth started to curve with a “no,” but at the last second he changed it to, “Of course. I’ll speak with the Council to arrange it. In the meantime I urge you not to make rash decisions. Don’t be too quick to give up on your friend. But do not trust him blindly, either.”

“What about the cache?” Granite asked, unleashing a whole new set of worries. “The Council won’t be happy to know Sophie has lost it.”

“We must recover the cache—quickly,” Mr. Forkle said, “before the Council discovers it’s missing.”

“You mean we’re not going to tell them Keefe stole it?” Sophie asked.

Mr. Forkle sat next to her on the bed, his bulky weight making her lean toward him. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to keep secrets from the Council. And it likely won’t be the last. If the cache remains missing too long, we’ll inform them. But to tell them now would only be a distraction.”

“How are we going to get it back?” she asked.

“I’m still working on that,” Mr. Forkle said. “But hopefully, with the right planning, we can recover everything we’ve lost.”

The glint in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t giving up on Keefe either.

“Sounds like she’ll need a good bodyguard,” a high-pitched squeaky voice said from the doorway.

Sophie jumped out of bed and sprinted across the room, throwing her arms around Sandor. She didn’t mind at all when he lifted her off the ground, or the noseful of musky goblin scent.

“I’m not hurting you, right?” she asked, realizing how tight she was squeezing—even if it was hard to imagine hurting so much rock-hard goblin muscle.

Sandor laughed. “No, Miss Foster. I’ve never been better.”

He set her down and turned to Mr. Forkle, informing him of the new security protocols Grady and the rest of the Collective had agreed upon, which included bodyguards for Fitz, Biana, and Dex, as well as regular observation of Everglen and the Hekses’ house. The best news was that Sandor would resume his supervision of Sophie.

Sophie tried to listen to the rest, but she kept staring at the bead in Keefe’s necklace. He’d chosen a Panakes blossom, which Calla had said could heal anything.

As she stared longer at the intricate flower, she noticed tiny letters painted into one of the petals—the same petal that had hidden the crystal that saved her.

Trust me.

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

“You’re not alone,” he said, making her wonder if he’d been eavesdropping on her thoughts. “And I think it’s important for you to know that as you enter this next phase in your life. You’re back in the Lost Cities. Back under the watchful eye of the Council. Returning to the routines of Foxfire. And I’m sure everything that’s happened will make you question who’s truly on your side. So I think it’s time to finally answer a certain question you keep asking, don’t you, Granite?”

“I do,” Granite said, though he sounded wary.

They each pulled a small vial from their cloak pockets. Sophie didn’t recognize the green liquid in the bottle Granite held. But she definitely recognized the callowberries in Mr. Forkle’s hand.

She gasped as he popped one into his mouth and swallowed. Granite coughed and spluttered as he downed his elixir. For five seconds nothing happened. Then their bodies started shifting and shrinking. The process looked painful as their features tightened and twisted into their rightful places.

Sophie tried to guess which faces would soon stare back at her, but when the shift was complete, she discovered how wrong she’d been.

“You?” she whispered, not sure which of them stunned her more.

Mr. Forkle had turned into the tall, black-haired Magnate Leto, her Principal at Foxfire.

And Granite’s rocky features had dissolved into the olive-toned complexion and blond hair of Sir Tiergan, her telepathy Mentor.

“Yes,” they said, looking both proud and shy.

“The surest way to protect you was to be in your life,” Tiergan told her, “even if it meant resorting to deception.”

“So that means . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence, her mind splitting in too many different directions. All the times Sir Tiergan had helped her or guided her, all of Magnate Leto’s strange looks and probing questions.

It seemed so obvious now—but also so impossible to wrap her head around.

“Is anyone who they really say they are?” Sophie asked, sinking back onto her bed.

“Yes,” Magnate Leto—Mr. Forkle—whatever she was supposed to call him—told her. “You are, and always will be, Sophie Foster.”

“And we will continue to watch over you. Which is why we’ve chosen to reveal ourselves. We want you to know that you’re never alone,” Granite-as-Tiergan said. “We’re always here in one form or another. All you have to do is trust us.”

That was what Keefe was asking for too, along with the final words he’d said to her.

Please don’t hate me.

The request had never felt more impossible. But Sophie decided in that moment that she was going to grant it. She may not understand what he was doing. But she couldn’t hate Keefe.